don't
know whether it's the sea, or no, but so it is." He would at times even
talk, in moments of sudden indignation at the political outlook, of
carrying off himself and his household gods, like Coriolanus, to a world
elsewhere! "Thank God there is a Van Diemen's Land. That's my comfort.
Now, I wonder if I should make a good settler! I wonder, if I went to a
new colony with my head, hands, legs, and health, I should force myself
to the top of the social milk-pot and live upon the cream! What do you
think? Upon my word, I believe I should."

His political squibs during the Tory interregnum comprised some capital
subjects for pictures after the manner of Peter Pindar; but that which I
select has no touch of personal satire in it, and he would himself, for
that reason, have least objected to its revival. Thus ran his new
version of "The Fine Old English Gentleman, to be said or sung at all
conservative dinners:"

I'll sing you a new ballad, and I'll warrant it first-rate,
Of the days of that old gentleman who had that old estate;
When they spent the public money at a bountiful old rate
On ev'ry mistress, pimp, and scamp, at ev'ry noble gate.
In the fine old English Tory times;
Soon may they come again!

The good old laws were garnished well with gibbets, whips, and chains,
With fine old English penalties, and fine old English pains,
With rebel heads and seas of blood once hot in rebel veins;
For all these things were requisite to guard the rich old gains
Of the fine old English Tory times;
Soon may they come again!

This brave old code, like Argus, had a hundred watchful eyes,
And ev'ry English peasant had his good old English spies,
To tempt his starving discontent with fine old English lies,
Then call the good old Yeomanry to stop his peevish cries,
In the fine old English Tory times;
Soon may they come again!

The good old times for cutting throats that cried out in their need,
The good old times for hunting men who held their fathers' creed,
The good old times when William Pitt, as all good men agreed,
Came down direct from Paradise at more than railroad speed. . . .
Oh, the fine old English Tory times;
When will they come again?

In those rare days, the press was seldom known to snarl or bark,
But sweet